An Interview with CLAMM

Words by Sarah Morrison

Photos by Oscar O'shea

Australia’s music scene has been flourishing, dropping new and exciting acts at ever turn. CLAMM sprouted from the depths and entered an already established scene with little regard. The trio began booking gigs with acts who were willing to take a chance and soon began to draw attention, landing themselves on Meat Machine’s roster.

“Beseech Me,” the band’s debut album, recorded with Nao Anzai (Rolling Blackouts Coastal Fever, Floodlights, NO ZU), and lands everywhere on April 9. Ahead of the release, we sat down with Jack Summers (vocals/guitar) to delve deep into the band’s history, mental health, self-care, and post-pandemic life.

Talk me through the relationship with your grandfather and your experiences in his old Peugeot. What sort of music did he open you up to? 

He had an old iPod - I think iPods were fairly new back then - and he had a system where he would take all his vinyl and CDs and manually convert the files into MP3. I would flick through this massive iPod filled with stuff and remember being introduced to Roy Orbison and can vividly remember listening to him in his car. That might be one of my earliest memories where I really felt something through music. I’m in the car with my grandpa when I was five or six listening to something that he really liked and I’m loving it as well.

What specific elements of music stick out to you? What gravitates you to a song? 

I think the feeling that a song evokes is what I really like over anything else. I get really attached to how a song or piece of music makes me feel.

What does it make me want to think about? How does it move me? That’s a big thing for me. How does a song accompany my life? At what points in my life am I going to go to this song? What does this song bring up for me? That’s what I like about music, it’s accompaniment to my experiences.

Pop music is great for some people but sometimes I listen to some of these songs and I feel nothing. Maybe that’s bias but I like something that’s moving.

Playing instruments was never a part of your upbringing and only became a monumental part of your life in your late teens. Do you remember that key moment where you just knew you needed to pursue learning an instrument? 

I got really into the idea when we watched Miles’ older brother play in his band called ‘Water Bear.’ We were sixteen or seventeen and watching this really psychedelic band rock and we were sort of just infatuated I reckon. I think seeing live music that early on and watching someone we knew made it seem like this achievable thing that we could also do.

Listening to Ty Segall, Thee Oh Sees, Goggs and heavier music when I was eighteen or nineteen, I remember thinking “I need a new outlet.” The energy of some of that music made me want to go write similar music. I needed to feel what those people were feeling when they performed their songs. I wanted to find my own version of that.

I remember listening to those bands and just feeling so charged up and I knew I wanted to feel like this when I play music.

How did the addition shape the last few years of your life? 

At the moment, my life is centred around music. Even though back in that time when I first started playing, it wasn’t a serious thing, it slowly progressed into something where I am now very focused on it. If I haven’t had done that, changed my perception from “it’s just a little bit of fun,” my life would be completely different. I don’t know if it would be better or worse. I could’ve been really wealthy working in politics or something (laughs) but it would’ve been totally different, I can’t even imagine how.

Were there any acts from that a similar garage/psych rock scene from Australia that were really prominent growing up or was that music mainly coming out of the North America scene?

Right now I’m always getting asked about Melbourne and it seems like the city has a bit of a reputation. When I think about my experience with Melbourne, it’s literally just Eddy Current Suppression Ring and Total Control. They are this mythical force. That’s who we listened to as kids and I still listen to all those bands involved in that scene. They were always the epitome of the music of our age - for my anyways.

It was a running joke that everyone is trying to do Eddy Current Suppression Ring. They seemed to have mastered what they were doing. It sounds a bit full on but for Melbourne bands and Australian bands, achieving a level of what Eddy Current Suppression Ring have done is something to strive towards but never really reach. They were an underground band writing honest music. For bands who aren’t interested in writing pop music or just making money, the fact they were able to do that was like ‘Woah, we cant do this.’

How do The Beatles play into the band’s past history? 

Miles’ dad, for a time, played in a band called the ‘Black Sorrows.’ His dad was really into the Beatles so his entire family grew up on the band. Growing up with Miles, I started listening to them as well. It’s one of those things where you’re not sure how much of an influence it has over you and your songwriting but it probably has.

Another funny fact about The Beatles - Miles used to play in a Beatles cover band with his brother and a few others. I can’t remember what they were called but we used to go and watch Miles drum.

Prior to CLAMM’s creation, you were all in other bands (Dragoons / Gamjee / The Belair Lib Bombs). Specifically, Dragoons, was more of a learning experience quite literally, what are some of the biggest lessons you took away from that project? 

I mean ya, shit, Dragoons was great. Rudy who played Bass was really good at Bass, Miles was a really good drummer, but we were all just learning. We were listening to a lot of King Gizz but also trying to do our own thing and that was a really positive way to start making music. It set a persistent where it was like ‘We’ve always done our own thing, why would we do anything else?’

We were trying to be experimental and think of doing things that were different at gigs. I was doing horoscope readings for a bit! We were trying to do stuff that was strange. Many times there weren’t many people at our shows and if you did something strange it almost reinforced that mindset of not worrying who’s there.

When CLAMM started playing shows and there weren’t many people there, it was like ‘Oh I’ve been here before and the best thing I can do is now is to do what I did back then and give it everything.’

The line-up has slightly shifted over time, so tell me how today’s current trio came together. 

It’s a pretty funny story. Our old bass player Luke Scott left Australia to live in Poland and we were left without a bass player. Around that time, we played a show where our current bass Maisie’s other band played, and we all dug what the other was doing. Around the same time Luke left, we got a gig offer from Bass Drum of Death which was a big deal for us but we didn’t have a bass player. We had ten days to sort it out and I remember going on the Facebook event page for the show and saw Maisie was interested in the event. Miles and I knew we had two options, saw no to the gig or ask Maisie if she wants to learn the songs and play the show. Maisie shreds, she’s incredible and picked it up really quickly.

Describe each member in one word. 

Miles gets collected.

Maisie gets cool, she’s fuckin cool in every sense.

And a word for myself, I’m gonna do dragon.

CLAMM was sort of a backburner project; a collection of songs that didn’t suit the bands you were then invested in. When was it that you found the confidence to fight to bring the songs to life in a new group? 

It was really weird, I wasn’t really sure what was going to happen or what I was going to do with them, I just knew I had these really loud riffs and everything slowly started falling into place. Miles drummed on the demos and I showed the tracks to Luke. I think when we played live, I was surprised by how much some people resonated with the music. Those first few live shows where people were going ‘Oh, what the hell is this?’ was when I started to realize I needed to take this more seriously.

You had previously worked with Nao Anzai (Rolling Blackouts Coastal Fever, Floodlights, NO ZU) in your other groups and it seems as though there’s a clear feeling of trust and communication as they have helped record CLAMM’s debut album. What initially sparked the relationship? How has his recording process given you comfortability? 

He was doing sound at a Dragoons gig ages ago and came up to us and said ‘If you guys ever need recording, here’s my card.’ He did an awesome job on the night and we thought he was really cool. We recorded a Dragoons album with him and he does everything - he has an incredible ear and is very patient. He has great energy, I just love him.

We know what it’s like to work with him and know he’ll do an incredible job recording us so it’s hard to go elsewhere really.

I did see that you released the record in Australia last year and then took it all down. 

It was recorded back in 2018 - so long ago. It’s crazy! Then we released it in 2019 to the world and put it on a tape, Bandcamp, and Spotify. It did get a little bit of traction in Australia but never really did anything overseas. We had no distribution and weren’t really promoting it.

Our label Meat Machine was really keen on doing a record with us but also believed the debut album was really good. It was an opportunity to introduce us to the world or some people overseas before we did another release. It made sense.

Why write the instrumental parts before the lyrics? Why is that your method of creation? Why does it work for you?

When we’re just jamming, messing around, or writing together; if we’re able to capture a riff or sound that sounds nice, the vocals will just come after. I don’t know! I’m always writing down stuff that makes me angry or I’ll often hear a song and go between where it might sound good. I think it’s such an experience playing together but we haven’t yet written a song around vocals. We just think that the music comes first. I’ll often write lyrics in response to how the music is making me feel. That suits us more.

What are some questions you ask yourself before tackling lyrics? What drives you to delve into such heavy topics? 

If we’re playing something that’s really loud and aggressive and I’m feeling angry or feel like shouting, I’ve always tried to think ‘Well, what am I angry about?’ I try to keep it really honest and true to us. It just comes down to honesty. It’s intense music, it doesn’t hold back and neither should the lyrics. Sometimes it is instinctual as well. It’s a combination of the both.

You once referred to yourself as a super-sensitive kid/highly sensitive. Why do you believe yourself to be sensitive? What does sensitivity mean to you? 

I get affected by things differently than possibly most people. I think I always have and it’s shaped me as a person. I’m still working on things that happened and look at others who have gone through similar experiences but they’re ok. I see a lot and get stimulated a lot and don’t have to see much happen in the world to go down this rabbit hole of thoughts and overthink. I’ve had to realize that and how I am affected by a lot. As I get older, I’m realizing that I have to manage that and try not to think about everything all the time; just think about how I’m moving in the present moment.

Back in college, we talked about how creatives tend to be more sensitive or in-tune with how they’re feeling. I remember there was a psychologist that identified how openness and sensitivity form the core of their personalities. It’s a weird paradox that helps explain how performers can be bold and charismatic on the one hand and emotionally fragile and more vulnerable on the other. 

I fully back that. If the artist is sensitive, they take in a lot and need to get that out. I feel like that - on the one hand, I’m very introverted and sensitive, quite shy, but on the other hand when I’m performing or in social situations, I can perform and sing very extroverted. But it is a massive paradox for sure.

Do you believe there is still a sense of male toxicity surrounding men being in touch with their emotions?

Definitely. The scene we’re in, in Melbourne is a good supportive place for anyone. But in Australia, there is this mentality of ‘Well, just get on with it.’

Was that engraved in Australian culture while growing up? 

Ya, I reckon definitely. Everything in Australia happens very slowly and way later to everywhere else. I think Australians, older Australians, would still be trying to grasp veganism. It’s a very traditional place. We’re convicts on an isolated island. It’s very rural. They don’t love change, it’s a weird one.

Everyone mentions how chill and relaxed Australians are but it’s not the case. They’re relaxed in the way that they don’t want to change. When it comes to accepting these amazing things happening in the world like men being more emotional - Australia is just funny.

Do you have a different variety of playlists for specific moods or feelings that help you get in tune with emotions and thoughts? 

I don’t have any playlists for it but I do definitely have that thought process of if I want to feel a certain way, what can I listen to that can accompany that. I don’t have any playlists per se but I definitely have albums that I go to when I want to feel a certain way or do feel a certain way.

Our drummer Miles is big on playlists. He’s got heaps of them!

I’ve started to notice a trend within the arts communities, most have found themselves suffering from imposter syndrome. Have you ever had an experience with this? 

I definitely have that. I just ignore it. I think it’s getting better. I have a friend of mine who just cannot release music, he’s really incredible and has been working on music for five years but he can’t bring himself to release anything. He’s a perfectionist and he doubts himself to no end. You just got to release it! I push through my imposter syndrome. It’s probably more normal to not like your own music than to like your own music.

The CLAMM album was recorded back in 2018 and if anyone plays it to me I just tell them to turn it off. One part of me is trying to be better with that and to be kinder to myself but another part of me knows these songs were recorded three years ago and just doesn’t want to listen to them anymore.

I’m trying to work on it. I’m writing some solo stuff and it’s sort of like a challenge to like it. I’m trying to think of how others may receive it and trying hard not to be so hard on myself and put it down straight away.

What sort of influence has live performances (as a performer and audience member) had on your health?

When we went into lockdown last year it was winter and winter in cities can be quite bleak. It’s raining, cold, you don’t want to get out of bed, and being able to go to a show during a time like that is always really amazing. Having that taken away made it winter with no shows and it sucked. It’s all community-based, it’s a big family. You’re at a show and you love this band and you’re in a room with five or two-hundred people who all feel on the same page. The community surrounding Melbourne has been really good for my health and everyone gets something from it. The same thing for performing, I’m doing something I’m passionate about, and having people connect to that is really nice.

What are things you do for self-care outside of music? 

I meditate. I feel better when I’m exercising. I try to journal every night about what happened throughout my day. Objectively summarize everything that happened and how it made me feel so that I don’t dwell on things. I write down my dreams - I try to do a lot. I want to better myself as an individual and I feel like those things help me do that.

The time off due to the pandemic has been a learning experience for all, some positive and some negative. For you, was the lockdown a time to continue growth/prioritize health, or was it more or less a pause?

I think it was both. We had a lot of exciting things coming up and the fact they were all taken away was challenging but at the same time, it was happening to everyone. It did at times feel like we were getting behind but everyone was in the same place. It did lots of positives - I see it as it grounded everyone.

In relation to music, Melbourne is amazing for the amount of gigs it has going on and you almost take it for granted. To have it taken away from us has made going back to gigs a better experience. Maybe it’s made me less picky about what gigs I want to see and just more grateful to have the live show experience back.

For the UK/ROW release of “Beseech Me,” you actually created the album artwork. At what age did you start expressing through this form of media? How does the experience differ from creating/performing music? Is it a similar high? 

My grandparents kept all these paintings that I did when I was really young. They were really into art so I think they loved that I was doing that. It was something in my brain that I used to do. In high school, we did a painting class and I realized I loved it. I hated high school, it was mainly sports-focused but my art teacher was great. He really liked that I liked painting and encouraged me to do it. He’d use the school's money to get materials for us. I loved going in at lunch and just painting. It was something I rediscovered.

I reckon it’s the same high. I think when I paint I can really tap out whereas when you’re writing a song it’s quite limited. Music in that way is less artistic. For me, painting puts me in my own world and I’m not doing anything for anyone.